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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912719">Fifty shades of gold: Photo-shoot</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohgingersnap/pseuds/Ohgingersnap'>Ohgingersnap</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>50 SHADES OF MALEC. [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Dates, BDSM, Better Than Fifty Shades of Grey, Bisexual Jace Wayland, Bottom Alec Lightwood, CEO Magnus Bane, College Student Alec Lightwood, Confused Alec Lightwood, Daddy Kink, Dark Magnus Bane, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Flirting, Gay Alec Lightwood, Harry Potter References, Insecure Alec Lightwood, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Magnus Bane is a Little Shit, Not Beta Read, Possessive Behavior, Protective Magnus Bane, Rewrite, Shy Alec Lightwood, Stalking, Sugar Daddy, Top Magnus Bane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:42:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohgingersnap/pseuds/Ohgingersnap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Alec, I'm a journalist, and I've written a profile on the guy. It's my job to know this."</p><p>"Okay, Rita skeeter, keep your quill down. So do you want these photos?"</p><p>There was a slight hesitation.</p><p>“Rita who? Wha- Was that a Harry potter reference?”<br/>------------------------------------------<br/>"Mr. Lightwood, we meet again." Bane extends his tan hand, and I shake it, blinking rapidly.<br/>----------------------------------------<br/>It all happens so fast - one minute I'm falling, the next I'm in his arms, and he's holding me tightly against his chest. I inhale his sharp, citric scent. He smells of fresh ground spices and some expensive body-wash. Oh my, it's intoxicating.<br/>-------------<br/>The Third chapter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec Lightwood &amp; Jace Wayland, Lorenzo Rey/Andrew Underhill, Luke Garroway/Maryse Lightwood, Magnus Bane &amp; Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>50 SHADES OF MALEC. [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fifty shades of gold: Photo-shoot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm back. :)</p><p>Thank you so much for all your sweet comments! They mean the world to me.</p><p>Sorry for the late update my depression has been getting to me lately.</p><p>Anyway please enjoy this next chapter!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Jace is absolutely ecstatic, practically vibrating with excitement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s ridiculous...and maybe a little bit endearing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But what was he doing at The institute?" His curiosity oozes through the phone and almost chokes me. It's so potent. I'm in the depths of the stock room, trying to keep my voice casual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He was in the area."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don’t think that is one huge coincidence, Alec. You think he was there to see you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He speculates. My heart lurches at the prospect, but it's a short-lived joy. The dull, disappointing reality is that he was here on business.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>More than likely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He was visiting the farming division of NYU. He's funding some research," I mutter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh yes. He's given the department a $2.5 million grant."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wow. Ok, that's just a bit impressive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How do you know this?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alec, I'm a journalist, and I've written a profile on the guy. It's my job to know this."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, Rita skeeter, keep your quill down. So do you want these photos?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a slight hesitation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rita who? Wha- Was that a Harry potter reference?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh, using my unoccupied hand to rub gently over my temples, “Izzy made me watch the movies with her ok, it’s no big deal, I think it was actually because of some guy she is talking to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Izzy is talking to somebody or like TALKING to somebody?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, Jace gross, I rather not discuss my sisters sex life thank you.” I say with disgust practically dripping out of my mouth like ink from a pen. “Do you want the photos or not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course I do. The question is, who's going to do them and where."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sigh in relief that work seemed to be more important to Jace than controversial gossip; </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least for now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We could ask him where. He says he's staying in the area."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You can contact him?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have his cell phone number."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jace gasps, like a fish out of water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The richest, most elusive, most enigmatic bachelor in New York State, just gave you his cell phone number."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Er... yes?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alec! He likes you. No doubt about it." His tone is emphatic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jace, he's just trying to be nice." But even as I say the words, I know they're not true</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>- Magnus Bane doesn't do nice. He does polite, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And a small quiet voice whispers, perhaps Jace is right. My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> After all, he did say he was glad Jace didn't do the interview. I smile to myself with quiet glee, rocking my heels from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment. Jace brings me back to the now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't know who we'll get to do the shoot. Our regular photographer can't. He's home in Idaho Falls for the weekend. He'll be pissed that he blew an opportunity to photo one of America's leading entrepreneurs."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm... What about Andrew?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Great idea! You ask him - he'll do anything for you. Then call Bane and find out where he wants us." Jace is irritatingly cavalier about Andrew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think you should call him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who, Andrew?" Jace scoffs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, Magnus."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alec, you're the one with the relationship."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Relationship?" I squeak at him, my voice rising several octaves, before clearing my throat and saying in a deeper voice "I barely know the guy."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"At least you've met him," he says bitterly. "And it looks like he wants to get to know you better. Alec, so just call the guy ok?," he says before hanging up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He is so bossy sometimes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I frown at my cell, sticking my tongue out at it; like the mature adult that I am.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I'm just leaving a message for Andrew when Lydia enters the stock room looking for sand-paper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We're kind of busy out there, Alec," she says without acrimony.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, um, sorry," I mutter, turning to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So, how do you know Magnus Bane?" Lydia's voice is unconvincingly nonchalant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I had to interview him for our student newspaper. Jace wasn't well." I shrug, trying to sound casual and doing no better than she was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Magnus Bane in The institute. Go figure," Lydia snorts, amazed. She shakes her head as if to clear it, her long blonde hair swinging in the process. "Anyway, want to grab some dinner or something this evening?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whenever she's home she asks me on a date, and I always say no. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It's a ritual.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I've never considered it a good idea to date the boss's relatives, and besides, Lydia is cute in a whole-some all-American girl-next-door kind of way, but she's no literary hero, not by any stretch of the imagination.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Is Magnus?</span>
  </em>
  <span> My subconscious asks me, his eyebrow figuratively raised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shoot him down, arrow to the chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't you have a family dinner or something for your mother?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's tomorrow."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe some other time, Lydia. I need to study tonight. I have my finals next week."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alec, one of these days, you'll say yes," she smiles as I escape out to the store floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>------------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I do places, Alec, not people," Andrew groans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Andrew, please?" I beg. Clutching my cell, I pace the living area of our apartment, staring out of the window toward the fading evening light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Give me that phone." Jace grabs the phone from me, tossing his rough and well worn black leather jacket down on the couch as he does so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Listen here, Andrew Underhill, if you want our newspaper to cover the opening of your show, you'll do this shoot for us tomorrow, capiche?" Jace can really imtemiditating when he needs to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good. Alec will call back with the location and the time. We'll see you tomorrow." He ends the call by the press of a button.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sorted. All we need to do now is decide where and when. Call him." he holds the phone out to me now and my stomach twists into pretzel-like knots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Call Bane, now!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I scowl at him and reach into my back pocket for his business card. I take a deep, steadying breath, and with shaking fingers, I dial the number.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He answers on the second ring. His tone is clipped, calm and cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Bane."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Err...Alexander Lightwood." I don't recognize my own voice, I'm so nervous. There's a brief pause. Inside I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>quaking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Lightwood. How nice to hear from you." His voice has changed. He's surprised, I think, and he sounds so... warm - seductive even. My breath hitches, and I flush. I'm suddenly conscious that Jace Wayland is staring at me, his mouth tilted up at one side in his signature smirk ,and I dart into the kitchen to avoid his unwanted scrutiny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Err - we'd like to go ahead with the photo-shoot for the article." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Alec, </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My lungs drag in a hasty breath. "Tomorrow, if that's okay. Where would be convenient for you, Sir?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I can almost hear his panther like smile through the phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm staying at the Heathman downtown. Shall we say, nine thirty tomorrow morning?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My heart glitches.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, we'll see you there." I am all gushing and breathy - </span>
  <em>
    <span>like a child</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not a grown ass man who can vote and drink legally in the State of New york.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I look forward to it, Mr. Lightwood." I visualize the wicked gleam in his golden eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How can he make seven little words hold so much tantalizing promise?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I hang up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Jace is in the kitchen, and he's staring at me with a look of complete and utter consternation on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alexander Gideon Lightwood. You like him! I've never seen or heard you so, so... so affected by anyone before! Like You're actually blushing. Like full on five year old girl with a crush blushing- it' adorable really Alec. Truly."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I roll my eyes at his idiotic babbling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ok Jace." He just beams an innocent smile at me. "You know I blush all the time. It's an occupational hazard with me. Don't be so ridiculous," I snap. He blinks at me with surprise - I very rarely throw my toys out of the crib- and I briefly relent. "I just find him... intimidating, that's all."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Heathman, that figures," mutters Jace. "I'll give the manager a call and negotiate a space for the shoot."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll make Dinner. Then I need to study." I cannot hide my irritation with him as I open one of the kitchen cabinets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am restless that night, tossing and turning. Dreaming of smoldering golden eyes, coveralls, tan legs, tan fingers, and dark, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dark</span>
  </em>
  <span> unexplored places. I wake twice in the night, my heart pounding. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I punch my pillow and try to settle and get at least one hour of solid sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Heathman is nestled in the downtown heart of New York. Its impressive brown stone edifice was completed just in time for the crash of the late 1920s. Andrew, Lorenzo, and I are traveling in my Camry, and Jace is in his CLK, since we can't all fit in my car. Lorenzo is Andrew's friend and gopher, here to help out with the lighting. Jace has managed to acquire the use of a room at the Heathman free of charge for the morning in exchange for a credit in the article. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he explains at the reception desk  that we're here to photograph Magnus Bane CEO, we are instantly upgraded to a suite. Just a regular-sized suite, however, as apparently Mr. Bane is already occupying the largest one in the building. An over-keen marketing executive shows us up to the suite - he's terribly young and very nervous for some reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I suspect it's Jace's charm and commanding manner that disarms him, because he's putty in Jaces hands. The rooms are elegant, understated, and opulently furnished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's nine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We have half an hour to set up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Jace is in full flow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Andrew, I think we'll shoot against that wall, do you agree?" he doesn't wait for his reply. "Lorenzo, clear the chairs. Alec, could you ask housekeeping to bring up some refreshments and let Bane know where we are."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is so demanding. I roll my eyes, but do as I'm told.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later, Magnus Bane walks into our suite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's wearing a black shirt, open at the chest, and black dress pants with a silver buckle belt and silver chains hanging across his hips. His dark hair is styled to perfection in an upward swoop with what appears to be a streak of dark purple color darting through the ends. His eyes are cat lined and smoky and his beautiful,</span>
  <em>
    <span> beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span> lips are glossy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My mouth goes as dry as the desert looking at him... he's so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> hot. Bane is followed into the suite by the same guy I saw at his office. Mid twenties, all dark black hair, and sharp jawline in a simple suit and tie who stands silently in the corner. His brown eyes watch us impassively, but I could swear they narrow slightly when they pass over my face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Lightwood, we meet again." Bane extends his </span>
  <em>
    <span>tan</span>
  </em>
  <span> hand, and I shake it, blinking rapidly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my</span>
  </em>
  <span>... he really is, quite... </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As I touch his hand, I'm aware of that delicious current running right through me, lighting me up, making me blush, and I'm sure my erratic breathing must be audible to not only my ears but to everyone's in the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Bane, this is Jace Wayland," I mutter, nodding my head toward Jace who comes forward, looking at Magnus square in the eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The tenacious Mr. Wayland. How do you do?" He gives him a small smile, looking genuinely amused. "I trust you're feeling better? Alexander said you were unwell last week."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Bane." he shakes his hand firmly without batting an eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I remind myself that Jace has been forced to grow up early. Our parents were always hard on him and wanted the best always and nothing less. Thankfully he's grown up confident and sure of his place in the world instead of the other. He doesn't take any shit from anyone and not only does that make our parents proud but it causes me to be in awe of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you for taking the time to do this." he gives him a polite, professional smile, full of sharp lines and warm eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's a pleasure," he answers, turning his golden gaze on me, and I flush,</span>
  <em>
    <span> again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This is Andrew Underhill, our photographer," I say, grinning at Andrew who smiles with affection back at me. His eyes darken when he looks from me to Bane.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Bane," he nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Underhill," Bane's expression changes too as he appraises Andrew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where would you like me?" Bane asks him. His tone sounds vaguely threatening. But Jace is not about to let Andrew run the show.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Bane - if you could sit here, please-be careful of the lighting cables. And then we'll do a few standing, too." he directs him to a chair set up against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lorenzo switches on the lights with a flourish, momentarily blinding Bane, and mutters an almost bitter sounding apology.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Lorenzo and I stand back and watch as Andrew proceeds to snap away. He takes several photographs hand-held, asking Bane to turn this way, that way, to move his arm, then put it down again. Moving to the tripod, Andrew takes several more, while Bane sits and poses, patiently and naturally, for about twenty minutes. My wish has come true: I can stand and admire Bane from not-so-afar. Twice our eyes lock, and I have to tear myself away from his molten gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Enough sitting." Jace wades in again. "Standing, Mr. Bane?" he asks more politely this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stands without answering, and Lorenzo scurries in to remove the chair. The shutter on Andrew's Nikon starts clicking again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think we have enough," Andrew announces five minutes later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Great," says Jace. "Thank you again, Mr. Bane." he shakes his hand, as does Andrew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I look forward to reading the article, Mr. Wayland," murmurs Bane, and turns to me, standing by the door. "Will you walk with me, Mr. Lightwood?" he asks, his tone almost a sultry one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure," I say, completely thrown. I glance anxiously at Jace, who shrugs at me. I notice Andrew scowling behind Jaces blonde locks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good day to you all," says Bane as he opens the door, standing aside to allow me out first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy hell... what's this about? What does he want?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I pause in the hotel corridor, fidgeting nervously as Bane emerges from the room followed by Mr. Dark and mysterious in his James bond suit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll call you, Raphael," he murmurs to dark hair. Raphael Wanders back down the corridor, and Bane turns his burning gold gaze to me</span>
  <em>
    <span>.... have I done something wrong?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wondered if you would join me for coffee this morning."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My heart slams into my mouth</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A date-Magnus Bane is asking me on a date?</span>
  <em>
    <span> He's asking if you want a coffee. Maybe he thinks you haven't woken up yet,</span>
  </em>
  <span> my subconscious whines at me in a sneering mood again. I clear my throat trying to control my nerves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have to drive everyone home," I murmur apologetically, twisting my hands and fingers into knots in front of me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Raphael," he calls, making me jump. Raphael, who had been retreating down the corridor, turns and heads back toward us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are they based at the university?" Bane asks, his voice soft and inquiring. I nod, too stunned to speak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Raphael can take them. He's my driver. We have a large 4x4 here, so he'll be able to take the equipment too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Bane?" Raphael asks when he reaches us, giving nothing away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please, can you drive the photographer, his assistant, and Mr. Wayland back home?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Certainly, sir," Raphael replies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There. Now can you join me for coffee?" Bane smiles as if it's a done deal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I frown at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Um - Mr. Bane, err - this really... look, Raphael doesn't have to drive them home." I flash a brief look at Raphael, who remains stoically impassive. "I'll swap vehicles with Jace, if you give me a moment."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bane smiles a dazzling, unguarded, natural, all-teeth-showing, glorious smile</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Oh my.</span>
  </em>
  <span>.. and he opens the door of the suite so I can re-enter. I scoot around him to enter the room, finding Jace in deep discussion with Andrew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alec, I think he definitely likes you," he says with no preamble whatsoever. Andrew glares at me with disapproval. "But I don't trust him," he adds. I raise my hand up in the hope that he'll just stop talking and by some miracle, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he does.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jace, if you take the Camry, can I take your car?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Magnus Bane has asked me to go get coffee with him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mouth drops open.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Speechless Jace!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I savor the moment. He grabs me by my arm and drags me into the bedroom that's off the living area of the suite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alec, there's something about him." His tone is full of warning. "He's gorgeous, I agree, but I think he's dangerous. Especially to someone like you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do you mean, someone like me?" I demand, affronted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"An innocent like you, Alec. You know what I mean," he says a little irritated. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I flush.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Jace, it's just coffee. I'm starting my exams this week, and I need to study, so I won't be long."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He purses his lips as if considering my request. Finally, he fishes his car keys out of his jean pocket and hands them to me.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I hand him mine in return.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll see you later. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't be long</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or I'll send out search and rescue."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thanks." I bring him in for a quick hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I emerge from the suite to find Magnus Bane waiting, leaning up against the wall, looking like a male model in a pose for some glossy high-end magazine .</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or maybe even the cover of playboy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, let's do coffee," I murmur, flushing a beet red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grins, all sharp edges and teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"After you, Mr. Lightwood." He stands up straight, holding his hand out for me to go first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I make my way down the corridor, my knees shaky, my stomach full of butterflies, and my heart in my mouth thumping a dramatic uneven beat. I am going to have coffee with Magnus Bane... </span>
  <em>
    <span>and I hate coffee.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We walk together down the wide hotel corridor to the elevators. What should I say to him? My mind is suddenly paralyzed with apprehension. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are we going to talk about?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What on Earth do I have in common with him? His soft, warm voice startles me from my reverie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How long have you known Jace Wayland?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, an easy questions for starters.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Since he was ten. He’s my brother."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," he replies, non-committal.</span>
  <em>
    <span> What is he thinking?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the elevators, he presses the call button, and the bell rings almost immediately. The doors slide open revealing a young couple in a passionate clinch inside. Surprised and embarrassed, they jump apart, staring guiltily in every direction but ours. Bane and I step into the elevator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I am struggling to maintain a straight face, so I gaze down at the floor, feeling my cheeks turning pink. When I peek up at Bane through my lashes, he has a hint of a smile on his lips, but it's very hard to tell. The young couple says nothing, and we travel down to the first floor in embarrassed silence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We don't even have trashy piped music to distract us.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doors open and, much to my surprise, Bane takes my hand, clasping it with his long cool painted fingers. I feel the current run through me, and my already rapid heartbeat accelerates. As he leads me out of the elevator, we can hear the suppressed giggles of the couple erupting behind us. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bane grins.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is it about elevators?" he mutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We cross the expansive, bustling lobby of the hotel toward the entrance but Bane avoids the revolving door, and I wonder if that's because he'd have to let go of my hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside, it's a mild May Sunday. The sun is shining and the traffic is light. Bane turns left and strolls to the corner, where we stop waiting for the lights of the pedestrian crossing to change. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He's still holding my hand.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I'm in the street, and Magnus Bane is holding my hand. No one has ever held my hand. I feel giddy, and I tingle all over. I attempt to smother the ridiculous grin that threatens to split my face in two.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Try to be cool,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Alec, my subconscious implores me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You're a grown man for angels sake.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The green man appears, and we're off again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We walk four blocks before we reach the New York Coffee House, where Bane releases me to hold the door open so I can step inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why don't you choose a table, while I get the drinks. What would you like?" he asks,</span>
  <em>
    <span> polite</span>
  </em>
  <span> as ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll have... um - English Breakfast tea, bag out."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raises his finely groomed eyebrows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No coffee?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not keen on coffee."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay, bag out tea. Sugar?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, I'm stunned, thinking it's an endearment, but fortunately my subconscious kicks in with pursed lips.</span>
  <em>
    <span> No, stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>- do you take sugar?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No thanks." I stare down at my knotted fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Anything to eat?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No thank you." I shake my head, and he heads to the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I surreptitiously gaze at him from beneath my lashes as he stands in line waiting to be served. I could watch him all day... he's elegant, well dressed, and slim, and the way those pants hang from his hips... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Once or twice he runs his long, graceful fingers through his hair.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Hmm... I'd like to do that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought comes unbidden into my mind, and my face flames. I bite my lip and stare down at my hands again not liking where my wayward thoughts are headed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Penny for your thoughts?" Bane is back, startling me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I go red. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I was just thinking about running my fingers through your hair and wondering if it would feel soft to touch.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I shake my head. He's carrying a tray, which he sets down on the small, round, birch-veneer table. He hands me a cup and saucer, a small teapot, and a side plate bearing a lone teabag labeled 'Twinings English Breakfast' - my favorite. He has a coffee which bears a wonderful leaf-pattern imprinted in the milk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How do they do that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>I wonder idly. He's also bought himself a chocolate chip muffin. Putting the tray aside, he sits opposite me and crosses his long legs. He looks so comfortable, so at ease with his body, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I envy him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Here's me, all gangly and uncoordinated, barely able to get from A to B without falling flat on my face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your thoughts?" he prompts me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This is my favorite tea." My voice is quiet, breathy. I simply can't believe I'm sitting opposite Magnus Bane in a coffee shop. He frowns. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He knows I'm hiding something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I pop the teabag into the teapot and wait a few seconds then fish it out again with my teaspoon. As I place the used teabag back on the side plate, he cocks his head gazing quizzically at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I like my tea black and weak," I mutter as an explanation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I see. Is he your boyfriend?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The photographer. Andrew Underhill."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I laugh, nervous, curious and slightly offended. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What gave him that impression?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No. Andrew's a good friend of mine, that's all. Why did you think he was my boyfriend? What made you even think I was into men? Cause I'm not." I add hastily to the end, Magnus seems to fight off an amused grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The way you smiled at him, and he at you." His golden gaze holds mine. He's so unnerving. I want to look away but I'm caught - </span>
  <em>
    <span>spellbound.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I also notice how he avoids answering my question.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's more like family," I whisper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bane nods slightly, seemingly satisfied with my response, and glances down at his chocolate chip muffin. His lean fingers deftly peel back the paper, and I watch,</span>
  <em>
    <span> fascinated.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you want some?" he asks, and that amused, secret smile is back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No thanks." I frown and stare down at my own less manicured hands again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And the girl I met yesterday, at the store. She's not your girlfriend?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No. Lydia's just a friend. I told you yesterday." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, this is getting silly.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "Why do you ask?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You seem nervous around them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy- that's personal. I'm just nervous around you, Bane.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I find you intimidating." I clear my throat, but mentally pat myself on the back for my candor, and gaze at my hands again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hear his sharp intake of breath.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You should find me intimidating," he nods. "You're very honest. Please don't look down. I like to see your face."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I glance at him, and he gives me an encouraging but wry smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It gives me some sort of clue what you might be thinking," he breathes. "You're a mystery, Mr. Lightwood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mysterious me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> HA.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's nothing mysterious about me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think you're very self-contained," he murmurs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I? This is bewildering. Me, self-contained?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Except when you blush, of course, which is often. I just wish I knew what you were blushing about." He pops a small piece of muffin into his mouth and starts to chew it slowly, not taking his eyes off me. And as if on cue, of course, I blush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So much for being a manly man like mom and dad wanted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you always make such personal observations?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hadn't realized I was. Have I offended you?" He sounds almost surprised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No," I answer truthfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Good."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But you're very high-handed," I retaliate quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raises his eyebrows and, if I'm not mistaken, he flushes slightly too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm used to getting my own way, Alexander," he murmurs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"In all things."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't doubt it. Why haven't you asked me to call you by your first name?" I'm surprised by my own audacity. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why has this conversation become so serious?</span>
  </em>
  <span> This isn't going the way I thought it was going to go. I can't believe I'm feeling so antagonistic towards him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's like he's trying to warn me off, but yet his action of asking me to get coffee with him speaks another way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends. That's the way I like it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. He still hasn't said, 'Call me Magnus.'</span>
  <em>
    <span> He is a control freak</span>
  </em>
  <span>, there's no other explanation, and part of me is thinking maybe it would have been better if Jace had interviewed him. Two control freaks together. Plus of course he's model material -like all the people in his office. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And he's handsome,</span>
  </em>
  <span> my subconscious reminds me. I don't like the idea of Magnus and Jace. I take a sip of my tea, and Bane eats another small piece of his muffin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you have any other siblings besides Mr. Wayland?" he asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Whoa... he keeps switching lanes, it's giving me whiplash.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes. A sister named Isabelle."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tell me about your parents."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why does he want to know this? It's so dull.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My mother lives in Los angeles. My father still lives in new York."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your parents are divorced?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I grip my cup a little tightly before answering with a slightly uneven tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My father cheated on my mother a year ago, they just finalized the devoice a few months back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," he mutters and a fleeting troubled look crosses his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It’s fine"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not. A part of me will still never forgive him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And your mother remarried?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I snort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She just started seeing someone, A guy named Luke. He lives here, apparently."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen a fraction before switching back to his normal controlled gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're not giving much away, are you?" he says dryly, rubbing his fingers over his tony stark like goatee as if in deep thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Neither are you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You've interviewed me once already, and I can recollect some quite probing questions then." He smirks at me, grey shadow glittering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The 'gay' question. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Once again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm mortified.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I start babbling about my mother - anything to block that memory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My mom is wonderful. At first she seems cold hearted but she's actually very loving. It just takes her some time to open up to people...even her own kids...apparently."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take an anxious sip of my tea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What are you doing?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> My Brain yells at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Magnus tilts his head in surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I miss her," I continue. "She has Luke now. I just hope he can keep an eye on her and pick up the pieces of broken glass when her giant schemes don't go as planned." I smile fondly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I haven't seen my mom for so long.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Though if things keep going well with this Luke guy she may end up moving back to New York. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Magnus is watching me intently, taking occasional sips of his coffee. I really shouldn't look at his mouth. It's unsettling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Those lips.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you get along with your father?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course. I grew up with him." My answer was short and clipped. Our father was always more fond of Izzy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And what's he like?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He's... taciturn."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's it?" Bane asks, in a slightly disappointed tone..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I shrug my black clad shoulders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What does this man expect?</span>
  </em>
  <span> My life story?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Taciturn like his son," Bane prompts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I refrain from rolling my eyes at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He likes sports - boxing especially-,and making wooden swords for the neighborhood kids. He's a carpenter. Ex-army." I sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Where is Bane going with this anyway? This is none of his business.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Two can play at this game.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tell me about your parents," I ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My dad's a lawyer, my mom is a pediatrician. They live in Seattle."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh... he's had an affluent upbringing. And I wonder about a successful couple who got lucky and adopted a son who turns into a beautiful man,who takes on the business world and conquers it single-handed. What drove him to be that way? </span>
  <em>
    <span>His folks must be proud.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What about other family?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have a cousin who is in construction, and another who is in Paris, studying cookery under some renowned French chef." His eyes cloud with irritation.</span>
  <em>
    <span> He doesn't want to talk about his family or himself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hear Paris is lovely," I murmur. Why doesn't he want to talk about his family?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Is it because he's adopted?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's beautiful. Have you been?" he asks, his irritation suddenly forgotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've never left eastern USA." So now we're back to banalities?</span>
  <em>
    <span> What is he hiding?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Would you like to go?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To Paris?" I ask surprised, my dark eyebrows rising to my hairline. Who wouldn't want to go to Paris? "Of course," I concede. "But it's England that I'd really like to visit."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cocks his head to one side, running his index finger across his sticky lower lip... </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh my.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Because?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I blink rapidly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Concentrate, Lightwood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's the home of Shakespeare, Austen, the Brontsisters, Thomas Hardy. I'd like to see the places that inspired those people to write such wonderful books. I’d also like to visit some of the castles they have there if I’d have time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All this talk of literary greats reminds me that I should be studying.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I glance at my watch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'd better go. I have to study."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For your exams?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes. They start Tuesday."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where's Mr. Wayland's car?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"In the hotel parking lot."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll walk you back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you for the tea, Mr. Bane."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles oddly.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I've got a whopping big secret it says.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're welcome, Alexander. It's my pleasure. Come," he commands, and holds his hand out to me. I take it, bemused, and follow him out of the coffee shop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We stroll back to the hotel, and I'd like to say it's in companionable silence. He at least looks his usual calm, collected self. As for me, I'm desperately trying to gauge how our little coffee morning has gone. I feel like I've been interviewed for a position, but I'm not sure what it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you always wear black?" he asks out of the blue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mostly."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods. We're back at the intersection, across the road from the hotel. My mind is reeling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What an odd question... for an odd man.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I'm aware that our time together is limited. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you have a girlfriend, or like a boyfriend or anybody really who you um-date?" I blurt out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can't believe I just said that out loud. Nice going Alec.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His lips quirk up in a half-smile, and he looks up at me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, Alexander. I don't do the relationship thing," he says softly, almost dismissively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, I think he's going to follow on with some explanation, or some clue to this cryptic statement - but he doesn't.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I have to go .</span>
  </em>
  <span>I have to get away from him. I walk forward, and I trip, stumbling headlong onto the road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because of course I do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shit, Alec!" Bane cries. He tugs the hand that he's holding so hard that I fall back against him just as a cyclist whips past, narrowly missing me, heading the wrong way up this one-way street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It all happens so fast - one minute I'm falling, the next I'm in his arms, and he's holding me tightly against his chest. I inhale his sharp, citric scent. He smells of fresh ground spices and some expensive body-wash. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my, it's intoxicating.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I inhale deeply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you okay?" he whispers. He has one arm around me, clasping me to him, while the fingers of his other hand softly trace the sharp edges of my face, gently probing, examining me. His thumb brushes my lower lip, and I hear his breath hitch. He's staring into my eyes, and I hold his anxious, burning gaze for a moment or maybe it's forever... but eventually, my attention is drawn to his beautiful </span>
  <em>
    <span>glossy </span>
  </em>
  <span>mouth.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Oh my.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And for the first time in twenty-three years, I want to be kissed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to feel his mouth on me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ok maybe it’s obvious that I’m gay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What did you all think?</p><p>Please leave comments and kudos it feeds me and I'm always hungry!!!!!</p><p>Fourth chapter should be out in a week or two as always.</p><p>Let me know what your favorite part of this series is so far.</p><p>Also what do you guys think of their dynamic so far? I quite like cute Alec :)</p><p>Till next time &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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